


All Hallows Eve

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 10:46:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12604844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: for the Halloween 2017 challenge, the prompt 'storms'





	All Hallows Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boogieshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boogieshoes/gifts).



> Ubeta-ed, sorry - and as always, late.

 

 

 

“An odd All Saints’ Eve.” The voice was soft and low, the words so heavily accented that it took me a moment to understand them. By then, I had turned to see who had spoken, knowing it wasn’t one of the living – and indeed, it wasn’t. To me, she was clearly visible, as I was to her.

 

 

 

Neither of us, though, was clearly visible to the ones we had come, this night, to see.

 

 

 

Though if this storm persisted . ..

 

 

 

She came up beside me, her skirt brushing mine. It was a course weave, of a color I couldn’t discern, though I could see it as clearly as if it were day – one of the few advantages of this condition. Darkness no longer was a concern.

 

 

 

She was small and thin, and though her hair was grey, there was a richness to it it that suggested it had once been black. A Mexican, I thought, seeing the rosary on her chest. She was looking in the window of the saloon, her gaze on one of the men.

 

 

 

As my own had been before her appearance. How I missed him.

 

 

 

Thunder rumbled above us, and the wind whipped about – though I didn’t feel it. Or the rain that started to come down hard. Another advantage; I felt more of the cold coming from my new associate than I did from the elements.

 

 

 

A deeper cold came from behind and another presence joined us. This one was a man, dressed in an elegant though worn suitcoat and trousers. He took a brief second to nod to me before turning to the smaller woman to my right.

 

 

 

“Ismerelda, good to see you again.” His voice was low and warm, rich with the slow syrup of the South.

 

 

 

“Senor Standish,” Ismerelda said, glancing toward him, but quickly, her eyes going back to the room inside. “I am pleased to be seeing you, once more.”

 

 

 

He smiled, and I knew at once who he was here for; the curve of the lips coupled with the gleam in those eyes. And the style; his clothes fit perfectly and they were the clothes of a professional, of someone who, previously, never had to bother with dust and sun and animals. The fact that they were worn suggested the amount of time he had been – not among the living. As did the coolness I felt from him.

 

 

 

“And you?” he asked, looking to me. The rain was coming down now, hard and loud. It was more the sound of it, a drone that engulfed the sound of our words. Annoying.

 

 

 

I hesitated to answer, feeling unsure in this company. Though I had come here for the past three All Hallow’s Eve, I had not seen these two before. In truth, it was rare that I had seen anyone more than once. The one I sought had developed the life of a nomad, moving from place to place as if he had never known the comfort of home.

 

 

 

As if what had happened to me had ruined him for a normal life.

 

 

 

I stared into the saloon, looking back to him. To the men with whom he sat.

 

 

 

There were seven of them – as there had been for the last time I was here. And the time before that. In one way, it was a relief: he had found somewhere that he wanted to be, somewhere constant.

 

 

 

Last year when I was here, there had been another, a dark woman. We stood for as long as we could, the moon so bright that we were safe from any human eye. I had thought to walk into the saloon, hoping to actually touch him.

 

 

 

I think she had wanted to, too. We hadn’t spoken, but there was no need to. We both knew why we were here, and how very short the time was. There are others to see, spread far and wide, and despite the stories about creatures like us, travel is hard.

 

 

 

This time of the night, when they are awake, it’s always harder to leave, too. Harder to get past the loss of them, the constant ache of missing them.

 

 

 

The first year I was here, there was a keener, a woman who had just made the transition. She didn’t understand the fact that there as no way to help. No way to intercede with the living. That is the hardest part of it: we can watch, hear, smell – I’ve heard some talk that we can even taste, if we can get close enough. But only in rare instances do they see us.

 

 

 

It hadn’t taken long to realize that this was her first viewing and that the young, impulsive man – boy, really - her only concern. It had made it easier to leave that time, to go on to the net viewing. I was envious though; how nice it must be to have one sole, singular attachment to the physical plane. How nice to be able to spend all of the brief time that was allotted to one of the living, not to have to consider all the others left behind.

 

 

 

As if knowing my thoughts, Standish said, “It seems they are all still here – all seven of them. I take that as a good sign. Perhaps he is establishing a life.”

 

 

 

Ismerelda nodded and took a step closer to the window. “I hope so. My son, he has struggled so. If only I had been here.”

 

 

 

I didn’t hear the last words – a rumble of thunder shook the very ground. But in my current state, sound wasn’t really necessary. I understood her nonetheless. It was a sentiment we all shared, I think, those of us who came at this once-a-year opportunity, to see those who were still behind.

 

 

 

“I had hoped,” Standish said as the thunder died down, “that my wife would be here. But as she is not, I fear I must go in search of her. That will take its own sweet time, as she is not given to remaining in one place.”

 

 

 

Ismerelda nodded. “My girl,” she said softly. “I know where she is, and sometimes, on nights like this, I can talk to her.”

 

 

 

I didn’t have to wonder at what that meant; I had been absent from the living long enough to learn that there were those, special ones, who could, indeed, peer through the veil that divide our existence from theirs.

 

 

 

I, too, should leave, I knew; there were others I had left behind, my death as unexpected and shocking for me as it had been for them.

 

 

 

As with the other two, this thought drove me closer to the window, the physical reminder of the greater divide between us and those we loved and waited for – impatiently yet guiltily.

 

 

 

Like Ismerelda, I reached out, as if I could touch him once more.

 

 

 

In that instant, as my fingers shivered through the glass, lightning stuck behind us, so bright that it reflected not only in the window but also on the glassware in the saloon, the half empty mugs of beer, the partial bottles of whiskey. It reflected in the spill of liquid on the floor, on the varnish on the bar itself.

 

 

 

And in the clear blue eyes of my baby boy – not so much a baby now, but a grown man, still carrying the weight of the last, foolish words I had said to him.

 

 

 

*&*&*&*&*&

 

 

 

“Did you see that?” JD yelled, knocking his chair back as he jumped to his feet. “Outside the window – those people -”

 

 

 

“I saw a flash of lightning – quite spectacular, I might add,” Ezra said, though he was staring at his cards about as hard as he ever did. “So brilliant that it was not possible to see anything else. I am just now starting to focus again.”

 

 

 

“Cards didn’t change,” Chris said, one side of his lips curling up, like they did when he was poking at Ezra. I think it was one of his favorite pursuits, when he was of a mind. “Unless you pulled from the bottom of the deck while we were all blinded.”

 

 

 

Was right glad to see that he was of a mind this night, what with the storm outside. Ezra looked up at Chris and sighed. Maybe he, too, was of a mind to make light tonight. Too damned wet and windy outside to go charging out in a dander.

 

 

 

“JD, are you going on about ghosts again?” Buck said, leaning back in his chair. He was rolling a cigar around in his mouth, one that Nathan had parted with.

 

 

 

“It is All Saints’ Eve,” Josiah said, his voice low and rumbling like the thunder. He didn’t wait for us to ask, going on, “Which means tomorrow is the day we pray for the saints, who may choose to come visit.”

 

 

 

“Yeah!” JD said, still standing and pointing to the window. “That! Maybe they was saints! I’ve heard they sometimes come to check in on people, ‘specially those who honor ‘em.”

 

 

 

“Which would be you and Josiah?” Nathan said as he blew cigar smoke across the table. He was grinning wide, his teeth white in the dimness of the room.

 

 

 

“And Inez,” Buck added, that woman never far from his mind these days. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing; he was still smarting from Louisa’s decision to go to work in Kansas City – a town none of us had any use of these days. I cared enough for Inez not to want to see her get hurt, though Chris seemed to think that wasn’t the case with Buck now.

 

 

 

“I saw them!” JD said. “Three of ‘em standing on the other side of the glass. Two women and a man. The man looked like you, Ezra, I swear it. And them women -”

 

 

 

“Are they there now?” Ezra asked, cutting JD off. He was still looking to his cards, moving them around in his hand as of that might change what they were.

 

 

 

JD stared out the window. Buck looked too, and while he was grinning, I saw the worry in his eyes. He was worried about JD, but Buck was also worried that JD was right.

 

 

 

“We playing?” I asked, picking up a penny and tossing it in the center of the table. My hand was crap – as most of them were. Luck of the draw. But I reckoned we needed a change of mind – and I didn’t want Chris or any of the others heading down the wrong paths tonight. Storm was bad enough, knew we were all on edge from it.

 

 

 

Could not have happened on a worse night, neither.

 

 

 

“I could not have asked it better myself,” Ezra said, tossing in his own penny. “Good to know that there are rational men among us.”

 

 

 

Josiah grinned, his big teeth glinting. “Faith and rationality can work together. Not everyone who has faith is irrational.” But he tossed in a coin, playing the game.

 

 

 

Outside, there as another flash of light, but it wasn’t as bright as the last one. The storm was moving fast – not really fast enough, but it wasn’t overhead no more. The thunder wasn’t long in coming, and it still rattled us, but not the way it had last time.

 

 

 

JD still stood staring at the window, as if he could see them again.

 

 

 

“I seen better hands on a chicken,” Buck announced, throwing down his cards. He sighed, blowing out a long stream of smoke from the cigar. Across the table, Ezra made a show of coughing while Chris grinned and Josiah and Nathan laughed.

 

 

 

It didn’t take long for JD to join in, picking fun at Buck and finally sitting his ass down.

 

 

 

We played, and mostly, no one lost big, and no one won big. JD, Josiah and Nathan left first, lightning in the far distance, the rain down to a drizzle and the thunder a mere thud, like a door closing. It didn’t take long for things to wind down, the place to clear and Billy, the night bartender, to let us know it was last call. Buck had already sidled off to find a warm bed – and warm body, leaving me, Ezra, and Chris.

 

 

 

I finished off by beer and stood, looking out the window. It was dark out now, the lightning so far away that it was a faint flash in the sky, like a fire that was almost out. I could barely hear the thunder, a low rumble, like dynamite in a mine miles away.

 

 

 

“I think it is a strange night to be about,” Ezra said softly, shuffling his deck of cards. “I am quite relieved to be sleeping in my own large, plush bed, here in these very walls.”

 

 

 

I looked at him, trying not to laugh. “It’s all over,” I said. “Storm’s gone.”

 

 

 

He looked up at me, and though he grinned, looking as he always did when he was running a con, his eyes were dark and serious. “It may be,” he said slowly. “But All Hallow’s Eve is still with us.”

 

 

 

I took in a breath, swallowing, stalling.

 

 

 

Which gave Chris the time to answer. “You ain’t getting superstitious on me, are you?” he said, as he lifted his whiskey glass to his lips and finished off the little that was left in it. “You beginning to sound like JD and Josiah – spirits coming back from the dead, checking in to see if we’re all right. A fine fancy, but personally, I hope they’ve moved on to a finer place, one where they ain’t gotta worry about the failings of the folk who love ‘em.”

 

 

 

He pushed up to his feet, and picked up his hat, setting it surely on his head.

 

 

 

“You off?” I asked, thinking that the boarding house was a good place for him.

 

 

 

Ezra also stood, reaching out casually to cup his fingers around Chris’ elbow, steadying his sway. As he did, he said, “As with the living, the dead make their own choices. Perhaps it is best if we stop worrying about them – we will be with them soon enough.”

 

 

 

I let those words settle into my mind as I stared out the window, into the darkness. It was a deep black now, the clouds like a blanket, muffling any hint of light. The lightning in the distant was a flicker, more than a candle on a windy night, but not as much as a fire in the hearth.

 

 

 

Ezra was right, of course, he always was.

 

 

 

But I knew that like myself, he had been looking out the window when the lightning flashed. And we had seen the same thing JD had.

 

 

 

The difference was that Ezra and I knew who had been there, in that second after the lightning flash had faded to black. We knew who had been looking for the ones they loved.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
